Mrs. Sheldon was taking down her hair for the night, and it fell in lovely silver waves to her waist, with soft little tendrils, and a curl or two at the ends. It seemed to glorify her delicate face and set her off as if it had been a halo.
The girl watched her lovely mother for a moment, wistfully, wishing she would begin, and then suddenly she burst forth with tears:
"I don't see how I could have done it to you!" she said in a cry of sorrow. "You are so dear and lovely, and here I've led you through all this horrible mess! I don't see how you can ever love me again!"
With one swift movement, as if she had been young again, the mother turned and folded her child in her arms.
"My darling!" she said. "Oh, my darling!" And held her so close she could hardly breathe.
It was a long time they stood so, Marguerite's face hidden in her mother's neck, the mother's lips against her child's hot forehead, touching her hair with caresses that could not be measured nor counted nor described because it would be a desecration.
No words passed between them, nor was there any need. It was as if their thoughts were as open to one another as if they had been one, so close their hearts seemed to come.
At last the girl lifted her hot, shamed, forgiven face to her mother. There was one more thing that had to be spoken:
"Mother, you must think I'm an awful fool. You must think awful things of me that I let Nelson—that he—that I—so soon after—" She hid her shamed face once more on her mother's shoulder, and the mother arms clasped her close again.
"No, dear, I don't think awful things. I think my girl has been through a bewildering experience and didn't know her own mind, was not capable of judging, but I think you have come back to your senses again, and I thank God that you have such a wonderful friend as Nelson who has been willing after all the suffering you have given him through these months, to put the protection of his love about you. He could not be a greater comfort to me, and to you if he were my own son."